


Interlude 4 - Rainy Night in Georgia

by shibarifan01



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4613247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shibarifan01/pseuds/shibarifan01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heat wave on a rainy night in Georgia, music, a hammock, John, Harold and ripe peaches... nuff said!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude 4 - Rainy Night in Georgia

**Author's Note:**

> Well, the writing fairies have finally made themselves known... after a hiatus of almost one full year... just a little thing... another interlude (from the American music songbook, of course) - one of my favourite songs. Came to me as I listened to this version, by Chris Young - here is the link to youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g3ttyxrkpNI  
> Enjoy and please keep in mind that kudos and comments are the bread and butter of fic writers ;o))

“Harold, are you almost finished? You’ve been at it for three hours and I’m getting bored…” says John, rocking gently in the hammock strung on the wide veranda adjoining the suite they’d rented in a large antebellum house-hotel in the historical district of Savannah. Professor Whistler had been roped in to replace a colleague who had fallen sick at the last minute. It was rare indeed that the learned societies had their conventions on the East Coast and the college did not want to pass that opportunity to present one of their best professors and the research they did. This year, the convention was being held at the University of Georgia and so Harold had gone down to Savannah, asking John to accompany him; he knew the other man's stamina was stretched to its limits, what with working as Detective Riley at the precinct while still looking after the numbers and battling Samaritan. So Harold had hastily prepared a paper entitled “Lagrange, Fermat and the Chinese remainder theorems: new approaches to solving age-old dilemmas,” which he’d delivered that afternoon to the appreciation of his audience. They were not due back in New York until two days later, a rare occurrence for them and the occasion to enjoy a two-day break. Harold was putting the finishing touches to some patches he was setting up to clear up the last few kinks in the latest number he’d had Fusco and Root deal with -- he'd been somewhat reluctant to pair these two together but the whole seemed to have gone down without a hitch... or too much of a hitch (frankly, Harold would rather not know the inner workings of the situation; all he knew was that the man had been arrested and Harold was now making sure he would not be using his considerable fortune to do more harm). Their agenda was almost clear and Harold was looking forward to the next two days… but he did not like being pushed, even by John.

“Mr. Reese, I know you’re hot, and bored, but someone has to put this number to bed despite your untenable situation!”

By then, John had gotten up, opened the little bar fridge, taken out a beer and was drinking it straight from the bottle, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he was swallowing the cooling liquid. Harold’s eyes lifted from the computer as he drank in the other man’s long body clad only in a pair of black boxers, the hard muscles making a play of light as John absentmindedly rubbed his pecs with this other hand. Suddenly Harold’s tie felt very constricting and he loosened it, undoing one button at his throat.

“Come outside, it’s hot as Hades in here. At least outside the smell of the night is wonderful and the hammock is so comfortable…”

“Do you really think you’ll get me in a hammock? Frankly I’d rather go rafting down the Amazon… That’s a plan to break your back right there Mr. Reese!”

“Harold, you can be such a stick-in-the mud sometimes!” said John, sighing mightily.

An affronted Harold stood up, eyes blazing, mouth screwed up in a thin line… just in time to see John’s lips quirk. He was having a real hard time holding his laugh in… “Ha! I knew I’d get you up at some point! Come…”

John extended his hand and caught Harold’s who, by now, had simmered down. John came close to him, undid Harold’s tie and let it fall to the floor (to which Harold almost protested) and started on the waistcoat buttons.

“Really, Harold? A tie AND a waistcoat in this kind of weather? It must be a hundred degrees, and the humidity is through the roof… I really don’t know how you manage to remain fresh in this kind of weather…” By then, John’s voice had gone down to a rough purr as he bent down and gently kissed Harold under his left ear, letting his hands roam at Harold’s lower back, his nose lost in the slightly damp hair that curled at Harold's neck. Harold could not help but let himself be conquered, leaning his forehead on John’s shoulder, running his hands on John’s hot flanks.

“Why don’t you make yourself more comfortable and then we’ll go outside and try to give that hammock a ride?”

Harold huffed and said “I’m sure we’ll break our necks, Mr. Reese” as he made his way to the bathroom to change into a white cotton dressing gown provided by the hotel. “Don’t say I did not warn you,” he added as he was coming out, tying the cord around his waist.

“Come, I’ll help you… you’ll be perfectly safe!” 

Harold followed him against his better judgement. John had set up a low table by the hammock. A bottle of Prosecco was chilling in an ice bucket beside a large bowl of ripe peaches. Harold could almost taste the hot sweetness of the peaches from where he stood.

“John, I’m not sure… why don’t we sit on the lounge chairs instead? I’m…I don’t….”

“Shhhhh… you’ll see, I’ll take real good care of you” said John, in his low voice, his eyes sparkling. 

The tapping sound of the rain on the roof isolated them from the rest of the world and the smell of the flowers was almost overwhelming. Harold felt like he was at the other end of the world, away from everyday life, away from the world around them, their daily work, the harsh reality of the numbers and Samaritan. He decided to throw caution to the winds and let himself be carried away by John’s voice.

John sat on the hammock, leaned back, keeping one leg firmly planted on the floor to anchor them. “Now, come down face forward on top of me, slowly…” he said to Harold. As Harold brought himself down, John jostled the hammock and a snort of laughter escaped his closed lips. This almost caused Harold to stand straight back up but John had already wrapped his arms around him and was bringing him down, whether he wanted it or not. John's laughter was now almost bubbling out of him and he could barely repress it.

“That’s really not funny!” said Harold, petulantly. “I think you’re laughing at me and it’s no laughing matter… you know about my physical restr…” but by then John’s lips had engulfed Harold’s and his words were lost in the heat of John’s mouth, John’s tongue was making gentle forays into Harold’s mouth. Harold couldn’t help but moan delightedly, afraid though he was of toppling the two of them off the hammock.

“That’s it, now let your considerable weight fall on me…”

“Hey!!!” said Harold… but John was now openly laughing and Harold couldn’t help but join in… “Mr. Reese, you are incorrigible!”

“That’s why you love me though isn’t it?” John asked, opening his legs to let Harold sink in on top of him. Harold was now safely lying on top of John, his head comfortably pillowed on John’s shoulder with John’s arms loosely wrapped around him. He was just about to sigh comfortably when all hell broke loose and he felt like he was about to topple over.

“Relax Harold! Sheesh, you really are going to upturn us!” said John. “I simply pushed us over so we can sway a bit…" But every time they arrived at the tipping point when the hammock was starting its balancing act to go to the other side, Harold gripped John’s arms and tensed rigidly, making a little squeaking noise in his throat. John was almost losing it every time, his stomach contracting to hold in his laughter…

"Really, Mr. Reese? I fail to see what's so hilarious," said a miffed Harold, trying to hold on to his dignity.

“Here, I’ll put the music on, that will settle your mind Harold. And just relax… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so stressed out!”

“Of course, you being the veritable picture of zenitude” said Harold snarkily.

John tried to extend his arm to start his wireless speaker without sending Harold in a tizzy.

“Really, John, you think that some twangy country music is going to help me relax???”

“Wait, Harold, you’ll see… tell me if that doesn’t make you relax all the way down to your tippy toes… well, hopefully you won’t be TOO relaxed,” he added with a wily lift of his eyebrows. Harold sighed audibly, kissed him softly on the side of his stubbly jaw and said “Tippy toes indeed! Do your worse, Mr. Reese, but don’t complain if I can’t abide by your choice in music!”

John pressed the button and almost right away, the mellow tones and a man’s rich, low voice filled the night. “Rainy night in Georgia”, though John did not know, was one of Harold’s favourite songs, despite being a country and western song… and what it did, was that it made Harold sigh audibly, wrap himself more snugly around John and rub his hand on John’s shoulder and arm.

“This is wonderful” Harold sighed happily, lost in the heat of John’s skin, his slightly musty sweat mingling with his aftershave, the dampness of his skin mixing with Harold’s.

John pushed them again, making the hammock sway lazily, almost to the music, and when the hammock arrived at the other end, he grabbed a peach from the bowl. The perfumed night air, the tattoo of the rain on the roof, Harold in his arms... John thought that he would not mind spending the rest of his life just like that. Keeping one hand on Harold’s back to gentle him, he bit into the very ripe peach and the juice began to run down his neck. The sweetness of the fruit was so good that he moaned and Harold lifted his head. He picked the peach out of John’s hand and proceeded to lick the juice that was coming down John’s neck, pooling in the hollow at his throat. He then licked John's every finger, his tongue taking its own sweet time snaking between each as he then gently bit the heel of John's thumb before engulfing it in his mouth. John tried his best not to squirm too much. Harold bit into the peach again and bringing his mouth to John, offered him the tender morsel he was holding between his teeth. John lapped at it and took it with his teeth as Harold continued licking the juice which was now flowing freely from the peach. This continued for a while, as they both got more hot, sweaty and sticky, Harold squeezing the peach over John’s pec and sucking at his nipple with the peach juice. It did not take long before John was hard as a rock, as was Harold. The music kept on playing but by then, neither of them was paying attention, lost as they were in their sweet delectation. 

They never did topple over, John guided them safely, albeit stickily, out of the hammock and into their room where they went directly into the shower and continued their loving exploration. But from then on, Harold could never look at a peach without getting a… rosy peachy glow!


End file.
